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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171626">K-9</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes'>ilse_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Injured Character, Jealous Derek, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pining Derek, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rebuilding the Hale House, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, who is a good boy?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:41:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is home for the summer and he finds himself a fun, new friend. A furry one! Derek gets jealous.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale &amp; Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No real animals were harmed during the writing of this story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Stiles had the disputable habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He even managed to drag someone else down with him every now and then; hence the reason why his best friend nowadays grew hair in more places than the average teenage boy. Yet sometimes, and he was sure a certain Alpha would argue it - because when did he not, Stiles was in exactly the right place, in exactly the right time. Like today, his first day back in town for summer break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lunch time, daddy-o!” Stiles called as he shouldered the door open, balancing two milkshakes (low-fat of course) and a bag of vegetarian take out in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father sat behind his desk and held his hand up to indicate Stiles should be quiet. He was talking on the phone, a frown etched between his eyebrows. Stiles tiptoed into the room and placed the food and the shakes in an empty spot on his father’s desk. He was just about to sit down when movement in the corner of the office caught his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, pushing himself away from the chair and towards the unexpected addition to the sheriff's office. His father shushed him again and Stiles continued to voice his happiness in a more quiet tone. “What are you doing here, pretty boy?” he cooed. “Are you guarding the office? I bet you’re doing a great job. You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Good boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles! Quit harassing the dog!” his father hissed, covering the lower half of the phone with his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you listen to him,” Stiles said, giving the dog in question a nice rub behind his ears. “I’m not harassing you, I’m only showing you some love.” The dog seemed to agree with him, as it eagerly pushed against his hands to get more of those nice scratches.<br/>
</span>
  <span>His hands found the tag and he turned it to read. “You’re name’s Olly? Well hello there, Olly! Whatcha doing here, boy? Are you new to the K9 unit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It got turned down actually,” the sheriff said from behind Stiles. “And will you quit talking to the dog as if it will answer? It’s ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles only shrugged. He knew of some furry creatures that talked back, maybe not when they were in their four legged form, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave the dog one last rub over his head and sat down in the chair in front of his father’s desk. “So? What’s he doing here? Why did Olly get turned down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s a very nice dog.” Stiles turned in his seat. “Hear that? You’re a very nice dog, even the sheriff says so!” When he turned back his father had that particular look on his face that told him he was close to a facepalm. Which meant Stiles was being stupid, or, more stupid than usual.<br/>
</span>
  <span>He looked at the dog again, who was watching him with interest, probably wondering if there were more nice rubs and scratches in the near future. Olly had a short haired coat in various shades of brown, which turned to black on his feet and nozzle. His large ears perked up and his tail twitched as if it wanted to thump against the floor. He would be a fierce looking dog, if it were not for his body language that just screamed ‘good boy’. <br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ohh…” Stiles mused. “He should have bitten my face off instead of letting me pet him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father nodded. “Something like that. Which reminds me.” He stood up and leaned over his desk to cuff Stiles over the head. “What have I told you about approaching dogs you don’t know?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles rubbed the spot where his father had hit him. “Don’t touch dogs you don’t know,” he answered sullenly. “But who can resist such a sweet face?!” Olly helped him emphasize his point by tilting his head to the side and letting his tongue loll out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sweet face is the reason I gotta find him a place to stay until he can start his new training. I was just about to call Deaton to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can stay with me!” Stiles practically jumped up in his seat. “With us, I mean,” he admonished when he saw the look on his dad’s face. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ll barely know he’s there, I’ll take care of him! I’ll feed him, I’ll walk him, I’ll even bathe him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles, we can’t take care of a dog. A police dog even. We don’t have the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I do! That’s the beauty of it! I’m home for my summer break. You said it yourself: I need to get a hobby instead of playing video games all day. With Olly I will have to get out of the house at least three times a day to walk him! Think of all the fresh air and exercise I’ll be getting!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles had always wanted a dog, but his dad always brought in the argument of his ever changing work roster and Stiles’ long school hours. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog to be home alone that much. However...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later Stiles parked in front of the supermarket to pick up dog food and other necessities for their new, temporary house guest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek sensed it before he entered the loft. His wolf felt warm and content at the feeling of his pack being complete again. They were early, a sign that they were eager to be together again. <br/>
</span>
  <span>Derek grew up in a pack that was also a family; for a great deal of his youth he didn’t know better than shared meals, shared space, shared time. After that was all cruelly ripped away from him, his youth along with it, he knew loneliness. Meals lost their appeal, the space he lived in wasn’t a home and he spent most of his time alone. That wasn’t all magically fixed when he became the Alpha of his own pack; if anything, it was a struggle. They had to face danger, fear and pain to the point that Derek sometimes thought it would be a mercy to kill them himself. Yet somehow they came out at the other end as a unity, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pack</span>
  </em>
  <span>. <br/>
</span>
  <span>Things quieted down in Beacon Hills, the pack members finished high school and started jobs or college. Derek started thinking about a real home again when shared meals became a staple at the end of a work day, when the others returned from their first semester at college and came by to share those meals too.<br/>
</span>
  <span>They saved as much from the Hale house as they could, removing all the parts that were damaged beyond repair by the fire. They recently started the rebuilding process and Derek had high hopes he would be able to host a Thanksgiving dinner in the new house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave himself a moment to listen to their conversations on the other side of the door, to take in their presence before they noticed him. Their awareness of their surroundings was shotty at best when they deemed themselves safe. Which they were, safe at the loft Derek called home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ What do I hear about a new man in your life?” Erica asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he is the best!” Stiles answered full of his usual gusto. “Super sweet and he gives the best cuddles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet,” the blonde answered and Derek could imagine the smirk on her face. “Got a picture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tons!” The sound of movement suggested that Stiles scooted closer to show his packmate the requested photos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment of silence Erica cooed. “He’s so handsome!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek opened the door with more force than originally intended. All heads turned to him, most of them with surprise or wonder on their face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles tucked his phone away and was the first to break the awkward silence. “Hey big guy, good to see you!" He tilted his head a little to the side and looked thoughtful. "Something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek clenched his jaws and tried to direct his glare at the space in general instead of a specific person. “Nothing. Long day,” he eventually grunted and made his way to the kitchen. The wolves in his pack probably picked up on the little lie, but they let it slide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the rocky start, the evening turned out really nice. The pack was happy to be together again and Scott and Stiles entertained them with stories from their dorms. Derek updated them about the progress with the house and they made plans to visit the construction site the next day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was around eleven when Stiles untangled himself from Erica and Scott and stood up, stretching his hands towards the ceiling. “I gotta go, there’s someone waiting for me. You want a ride, Scotty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek frowned at that. He’d assumed they would stay the night, like they did more often when pack nights got late or when they were too lazy to get up. Even though the loft hardly had enough beds for everyone - he meant to fix that in the new house - the pack had no problem with crashing on the couch. Yet Stiles said someone was waiting for him at home. His dad? Or was it this new guy he was talking about earlier? Did he meet someone at college? Had he brought him home for the summer? Were they that serious already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was ripped from his thoughts by a question from Stiles. "What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man smiled. "I said: is it okay for me to bring Olly to the house tomorrow? I don't want to leave him alone for too long and my dad has to work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Olly?" Derek balked at the name. Who named their kid Olly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles shrugged. "Hey, I didn't name him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, his parents would have done that. Parents that had the same weird ideas about naming their kids as Stiles' parents had, apparently. <br/>
</span>
  <span>"Who's Olly?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stiles’ new love of his life, of course!" Erica piped up from the couch. She ducked to the side to avoid a swipe from a laughing Stiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everybody laughed; they all seemed to know who Olly was and what he was to Stiles. It wasn't even necessary for Derek to answer, because Stiles shrugged his hoodie on and made his way to the door with Scott following him. He turned back by the door to look at Derek, raising his finger in warning. "You be nice tomorrow, I don't want you to go all Alpha on Olly. He is super sweet, I don't want you to scare him!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't wait for Derek's reaction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s a dog.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles looked at Derek as if he’d declared the sky was blue and grass was green. “Well, yeah. What’d you expect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek had spent the better part of the morning channeling his anger - he didn’t have a better word for the emotions that churned through his gut - into putting up the wood structure for what would become the new mudroom. He’d even scared off the workmen, who had found something else to work on, on the other side of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the past year, Isaac had dated three different girls. Derek had met two of them, separately, when they were led into the kitchen by a loose limbed Isaac and Derek had suddenly felt the need to finish his breakfast faster than usual.<br/>
</span>
  <span>During the short period Boyd and Erica were broken up, he’d smelled another man on Erica occasionally, though she never brought them home and their scents dissipated before they could make a lasting impression.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Stiles smelled of other people, of a different environment, when he came home for Christmas break. Scott too, both of them covered in scents that were foreign to Beacon Hills and the Hale pack. It was inevitable, with them being away for months at a time. Derek wasn’t entirely sure, but he didn't think the other scents were from intimate contact with one person, or more persons. Stiles just smelled of people, in general. It settled something in Derek he didn't know was out of sorts. After a few days the unfamiliar scents were replaced by the scent of pack, of family. This time, Derek feared one of those unfamiliar scents was here to stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was why Derek had refrained from smelling Stiles for unknown scents yesterday, apprehensive of what he might find, of whom he might smell. He berated himself for it now, from this close the scent of dog was unmistakable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed past Stiles, settling his hand on the young man’s neck in passing. “If he shits on the lawn it's on you,” he instructed, squeezing his neck shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Stiles turned to see him walk to the cooler that was standing in the shade of a three. “I’ll have you know Olly is a very well behaved dog! If he had thumbs he would scoop up his own poop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olly was a well trained dog indeed, if not a little too much of a do-gooder to be a police dog. He looked the part, with the fierce appearance that came with his breed and the K-9 vest around his chest, although the tongue happily lolling out of his mouth the moment someone paid attention to him kind of spoiled it. The way the Betas and Stiles treated the dog also didn’t help; they laughed when he pushed into their space and let him lick their hands or even their face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll mess up his training,” Derek told Stiles when he shared his sandwich with the dog. They were sitting on the steps of the half finished porch at the front of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, come on,” Stiles answered, slinging his arm around Olly’s neck. “Who can refuse such a cute face?” The dog responded by pushing his nose against Stiles’ chest, nosing up to his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek abruptly stood up and grabbed the dog by the collar of his vest, leading him off the steps to the grass. “Sit,” he ordered sternly. “And stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olly looked curiously between him and Stiles, but stayed put. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking care of Olly took up more time than Stiles had originally thought. He started to admit - silently, inside his own head - that his father had a point when he said they didn’t have time for a dog. Still, because this was a temporary situation and Stiles didn’t have much planned for this summer, he was happy to put in the time. The dog made it easy, with his good behaviour and generally sweet disposition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olly needed a lot of exercise and Stiles picked up his old habit of running in the mornings. He used to do it a lot before he went away to university, running a couple of blocks before school and using the trails in the Preserve on weekends. He’d tried to keep up with it at Berkeley, yet between his classes and his part time job at the university’s library he hardly had the time.<br/>
</span>
  <span>It was nice to pick it up again, even though the first couple of runs were harder than Stiles wanted to admit. Olly loved running through the forest, so Stiles often drove them to the Preserve in the mornings and they picked one of the trails at random.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost ran into Olly when the dog suddenly stopped in the middle of the trail. “Woah there! Whatcha doing, boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dog ignored him and kept staring at a point a little ways ahead, where the undergrowth was thicker. Olly was not growling or anything, though his posture was tense. Stiles’ first impulse was to think the dog saw a bunny or something, yet this was Beacon Hills. Chances were it was something scarier, even though the last year or two had been relatively quiet. The last time an unannounced visitor had the pack up in arms, it turned out to be just a small group of young werewolves that was passing through the Preserve as a shortcut and had neglected to announce their presence via the proper channels. A simple case of teenage oversight. Or negligence, as Derek put it. However, Stiles was not about to test his luck. Hell, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> luck the bunny would turn out to be a killer bunny, Monty Python style. “I should carry Holy Hand Grenades,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, something large, black and hairy stepped out of the undergrowth. Olly’s tail quickly disappeared between his legs and he looked ready to bolt: the brave police dog had never faced a creature like this before. Stiles held out a steadying hand towards the K9 vest. If Olly ran, there was no telling if he would be able to find his way home later on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The werewolf in front of them had no intention of running. It looked perfectly at ease, arrogant even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my fucking god! Derek!” Stiles deflated with an angry sigh. The Alpha was unimpressed. Typical. It was a little hard to stay angry, especially when Stiles was busy taking in the details of Derek’s wolfy appearance. He’d only seen the Alpha in this form once or twice; he knew Derek could do it, of course, knew he liked wolfing out during the pack’s full moon runs. However, being the human in a wolf pack, Stiles often missed out on the actual run part of their full moon gatherings. He often stayed at the loft, falling asleep in front of the tv, waking up when the wolves stumbled back in after a night in the woods. And, with him living in Berkeley most of the year, he’d missed a fair share of full moons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek was a beautiful wolf. It figured that he was as good looking on four legs as he was on two. He was at least twice the size of Olly, who was still cowering beside Stiles, which was - <br/>
</span>
  <span>“Hey! Asshole! What did I tell you about scaring sweet little doggies?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf showed an almost human looking eye roll. Or maybe Stiles was just so used to seeing it on Derek’s human face that it was easy to spot it on the wolf. Stiles rubbed his hand firmly through Olly’s scruff. “It’s okay, boy. That’s just Derek. He has horrible manners, but deep down he’s a good boy, just like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, Derek bared his fangs. Stiles gave him a hard glare, getting fed up with the Alpha’s attitude. “I was wrong, Olly, the only good boy here is you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wolf huffed, sounding offended. However, he slowly got down on his haunches and waited patiently until Olly relaxed enough to come sniff him out. He refused to let the dog sniff his butt though, which Stiles found hilarious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had a group app. Derek loathed it most of the time. It was one of those things where it really showed that his pack consisted of teenagers, even when they were rapidly outgrowing the teenage age. Derek rarely read the threads of messages that flooded the app, the times he tried he often lost track of the conversation within a few texts. He only used the app when it was more convenient to text them all at once, that was it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He enjoyed the photos the pack sent through the app, especially their selfies. He liked seeing what they were up to, how they were spending their time outside of the pack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a considerate amount of animal pictures in the app. The earlier ones were often from Scott, who sometimes sent a photo of his patients at the animal clinic. Recently, most pictures were of the Dutch Shepherd that resided with Stiles and the sheriff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone beeped early that morning. There was a photo from Stiles with the caption "I want to wake up like this every morning", followed by a couple of coloured hearts and a dog emoji. Derek opened the app to view the picture. As expected, there was Olly. The dog was sleeping. The angle of the picture was a little awkward and it took Derek a moment to comprehend what he saw. The dog was sleeping with his head on a bare chest. Stiles his bare chest. In his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second message followed while Derek processed that image. It was from Scott: "Dude, do you let him sleep underneath the covers?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles' reply was quick. "He burrows in there himself. Cute!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really are ruining his training," replied Scott. The others probably weren't up yet, because Erica would be all over this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles sent an emoji with stripes for his eyes and mouth. Derek guessed it meant annoyance. "You sound like Derek," was the accompanying text.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about putting his phone away. The image of the dog sleeping on Stiles’ chest was on his mind anyway, whether he looked at the picture or not. Stiles and Scott didn’t mention him or the dog anymore anyway, instead they made plans to get together. Scott promised his mom to help in the yard and Stiles offered to come too. He explicitly did not offer to help out, just to come. Which was just as well. Derek knew what ‘helping’ meant from the other day at the house: Stiles was more in the way than actually working. He didn’t mind. He didn’t need the pack to help at the house, that’s what the hired workmen were for. It was just nice to have them involved, even if they used the nail gun to play James Bond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you’d asked Derek why he climbed in through the window of Stiles’ bedroom not two hours later, he would tell you he was returning the little bag of dog treats Stiles had left lying around at the loft. Derek found it between the couch cushions, it must have fallen from Stiles’ pocket. Stiles was over at Scott’s and the sheriff was on shift, so he helped himself inside the house through the bedroom window. Surely Stiles would need the dog treats sooner or later, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bedroom smelled like Stiles mixed with dog. Last night was certainly not the first night Olly slept in Stiles’ bed. Logically speaking, Derek </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> the police dog wasn’t a threat in any way. It was just hard to keep a level head about it when all his wolf wanted was to challenge the male dog. Derek made it back to the window three times before he gave up and gave in to the wolf. He stripped, shifted and jumped into the bed, burrowing himself underneath the comforter and using as much space as possible.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Derek puts his foot - paw? - down when it comes to Olly. Hunters show up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so I know Stiles and Scott texting in complete sentences is not really how it would go in real life. But, in this story they do, because I don't know any abbreviations other than brb and I would make an ass of myself if I tried. Why? Because English isn't my first language, that's why. 😄<br/>So let's pretend texting in full sentences is a thing young people do. 😉 (I feel really old now)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Stiles went upstairs that night, Olly didn’t want to follow him into his room. Stiles frowned at the sight of the dog who was treating the threshold like a big hurdle he could never cross. He sniffed the air and backed off with a little whine.</p><p>“What is it, boy?” Stiles asked him, looking around to see what was wrong. His room looked the same to him. It had been mostly the same for years. His desk chair was different, but that was because his good one was now in his college dorm. As was his desk light and some posters from his walls. The chair and the lamp had been replaced, and during Christmas break he had given the walls a fresh paint job. Robin’s egg blue, or something like that. Lydia picked it out. Other than that, things were the same. On his desk were some of Olly’s toys, together with a little plastic bag of treats. He grabbed it, pulling at the knot. “I’ve got something here you like,” he sing-songed to the dog.</p><p>Not even the treats could convince Olly to put a paw inside the room. If anything, he balked when Stiles shook the bag in front of his nose. That was weird, these dog treats were his favourite. There was a big bag of ‘m in the kitchen cupboard, but Stiles always had a little plastic baggie of them in his pocket. He even had one now, he realised as he wanted to put the offending bag back in his pocket. He pulled the two little plastic bags back out, remembering how he misplaced one and put a new one in his pocket that morning. Stiles turned back to his desk, suspiciously eyeing the spot where the baggie first sat. Then he looked at his bed.</p><p>“I fucking knew it!” he exclaimed, grappling for his phone. It only took three rings for the Alpha to answer his phone. “What did you do to my room?!”</p><p>The answering silence was telling; Stiles could practically hear Derek scowling through the phone. </p><p>“Olly is afraid to enter my bedroom. What. Did. You. Do?”</p><p>“What makes you think I had anything to do with that?” </p><p>“You made my bed!” Stiles emphasized his point with a flail of his free arm towards his bed, even though Derek wasn’t able to see him do it. The comforter was pulled tight around the mattress, his two pillows neatly on top of the edge of the blankets. Derek’s work. Stiles never put his pillows on top, if he ever made his bed in the first place. His dad gave up long ago too, so he didn’t do it either. It was Derek. The Alpha came into his room some time today and made his bed, Stiles was sure of it.</p><p>“You’re yelling at me through the phone because someone made your bed?” Derek asked incredulously. “Good night, Stiles.” And then he hung up.</p><p>If his phone wasn’t so expensive, Stiles would have flung it across the room. Derek was so frustrating! Instead, he opened his texts and sent one out to Scott.</p><p>To Scott: [ <em> Derek made my bed and won’t admit it. </em> ]<br/>The answer came a few seconds later. It was a string of question marks. Stiles grumbled and typed again.<br/>To Scott: [ <em> Derek came into my room today and he did something. Now Olly is scared to come into the room. Who is gonna keep me warm at night now, Scotty? </em>]</p><p>To Stiles: [ <em> It’s the summer. Isn’t it warm enough already? </em> ]</p><p>To Scott: [ <em> So not the point. </em> ]<br/>To Scott: [ <em> What could Derek have done to keep Olly from the room? </em> ]</p><p>He had to wait a little for the answer. The ‘why’ was an even bigger question, but Stiles could think on that when he knew exactly <em> what </em> Derek had done.</p><p>To Stiles: [ <em> It’s probably just his scent. He is an Alpha, after all. </em> ]</p><p>Stiles pressed the call button and started to talk the moment Scott picked up. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re an Alpha too and Olly is not scared of you! We were at your house all day and Olly never acted like you smelled funny. Or scary, for that matter.”</p><p>Scott made an apologetic noise. “I never have problems with the animals at the clinic too. Maybe it’s because Derek’s the pack Alpha. He has more dominance, I guess.”</p><p>“That’s just the eyebrows, Scott. Derek’s a big softie on the inside.” Stiles sank down on his bed and rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired and he didn’t want to think about why Derek would scare his dog from his room. Because it was done purposefully, there was no doubt in his mind about that. Olly had met Derek a couple of times already and there had not been a problem then. Sure, Derek used his natural authority when he thought Stiles was spoiling the dog (like, all the time), but he had not scared the animal before. <br/>“It’s too late for this shit,” he told his friend, who gamely responded with a yawn. “I guess I’ll have to sleep without Olly tonight.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t let a police dog sleep in your bed anyway,” Scott responded, though he wasn’t sounding very convincing. </p><p>Stiles huffed. “It’s <em> nice</em>, Scott. But you wouldn’t understand, I guess. You are used to sleeping next to another person. Us single people don’t have that luxury. We have to make due with furry companions.”</p><p>“Derek is furry, sometimes,” Scott offered innocently. Too innocently, if you asked Stiles. </p><p>“A big, scary Alpha is hardly cuddle material!” </p><p>“Hey, I'm an Alpha and I'm a cuddle champion, you once said so yourself!” Scott laughed. “Besides, not a minute ago you called Derek a softie.”</p><p>Stiles wished this was a video call so Scott could see his scandalized expression. “I am now officially ending this conversation,” he told his friend. “We are never putting Derek and cuddling in one sentence ever again.”</p><p>His friend only chuckled. “Good night, Stiles.”</p><p>“See ya later, Scotty.”</p><p>During their conversation Olly had made his way downstairs again. Stiles took a moment to check on him, but the animal had made himself comfortable on his dog bed in the kitchen. Stiles turned in for the night too, pulling up the nicely made covers to get in his bed. <br/>He wasn’t really sure what made him think that Derek had touched his bed, but he was 99 percent certain that he would smell the Alpha all over his bed if he had the enhanced senses of a werewolf. As it was, Stiles didn’t smell anything suspicious on his pillows. </p><p>He burrowed deeply underneath the blankets. Summer or not, Stiles liked to pull up the blankets high. It was there, underneath the covers, that he thought he smelled something. Maybe he should have jumped up in indignation, maybe he should've pulled off his bedding and put it in the washer. But maybe he just wriggled in deeper. It was a nice smell, comforting, secure.</p><p>It smelled better than dog.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Stiles didn’t bring up the incident with Derek again. Not even when he suspected it wasn't a one time occurance. In fact, over the week he became pretty sure the Alpha crawled in his bed more than once. It was too weird to bring it up, especially because Stiles secretly liked the idea of having Derek in his bed. Preferably at the same time as him, but that was another thing he wasn't gonna talk about any time soon. Derek didn’t mention the situation either and Olly spent the nights on his dog bed in the kitchen. It made sense; if Olly were to have a chance of working as a police dog again, he shouldn’t get used to sleeping in a bed with Stiles. And, as his dad argued, the situation was only temporary and Stiles would only make it harder on himself if he and the dog would be too dependent on each other. Stiles saw the truth in that, though going back to university would probably help to distract him from missing the dog when summer was over. Not that university helped much in distracting him from missing his pack, from missing a certain Alpha, but still.</p><p>For now, he was gonna enjoy their daily runs. Going running through the Preserve every morning did wonders for his stamina. He was able to run for a full hour, on good days even more. On some mornings Derek joined them in his wolf form, always keeping a distance from Olly, keeping up with them between the trees. Today it was just Stiles and the dog. They planned for the pack to meet at the house in the Preserve for lunch, but that wasn’t until noon. Stiles had the whole morning to himself. If he was disappointed a certain Alpha wasn't there to run with them, well, nobody knew but him.</p><p>He was almost back to town when Olly suddenly stopped. The animal had been running ahead of Stiles, well familiar with their usual route. From here it would be less than a mile or so until they got home; it was the home stretch of their run. Stiles didn’t want to stop now. He was already running for over an hour and a half, going further than usual. If he stopped now, he didn’t know if he could start running again. And his pride forbade him to walk the last mile home, no matter if somebody saw him or not.</p><p>Somebody saw him alright. And he saw them. There were three of them, decked out in tactical gear. He also saw the weapons. Not your standard hunting rifles, that’s for sure.</p><p>“Fuck,” Stiles said on a breath. </p><p>One of the men used a similar word. And then he heard something that made his heart skip several beats. “It’s the human kid.”</p><p>It wasn’t the middle of the night. It wasn’t raining. There were no ominous grey clouds obscuring the sun. He wasn’t in the middle of the Preserve, miles from civilisation. It was fucking 11 AM on a weekday, sunny and bright, and he could see the first houses of Beacon Hills just outside the tree line. There was really no indication for anything to go wrong, but of course it did. </p><p>Things went South. So, so badly. </p><p>By the time Stiles was bound and gagged he was nearly hyperventilating from yelling and kicking. He should really consider bringing his bat with him when he went for a run. The last thing he saw before the trunk closed on him was the still form of Olly, lying half in the bushes along the path. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Derek hadn’t felt like this in a long time. In hindsight he would probably realise that 18 months wasn’t a long time, yet it certainly felt like that, after the years of grief, stress and worry that followed the fire. It felt like a long time, compared to the time his pack was still young and inexperienced, barely a pack at all and facing life threatening danger. Things had been quiet, things were good. </p><p>And now somebody took Stiles.</p><p>Hunters took Stiles. </p><p>They took a member of Derek’s pack and shot his dog with a wolfsbane bullet. </p><p>Derek was sitting on his half finished porch, eating a sandwich, when he got the call. Sheriff Stilinski was on the phone, sounding clipped and professional. Stiles was missing. A man who lived on the edge of town found Olly a little way in the woods, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound in his hind leg and barely breathing. The man was mowing his lawn when he heard a ruckus in the woods behind his home. By the time he got there only the dog was there, but the police found clear signs of a struggle. There had been a car too, a four wheel drive. </p><p>He supposed it was a lucky coincidence he had most of his pack together for lunch when the sheriff called. In fact, they were waiting for Stiles to join them.</p><p>Allison and Lydia went to Deaton, to retrieve the bullet that was used to shoot Olly. With some luck they would be able to identify the hunters by it. Derek took the others with him to the crime scene, feeling a strange sort of detachment that enabled him to bark out orders and make quick decisions. It was probably similar to why the sheriff sounded so collected over the phone about the fact his only son was missing. Panicking wouldn’t bring Stiles back.</p><p>The sheriff was already off to chase some leads, but deputy Parrish was there and he arranged for the wolves to scent the area for signs of their missing packmate. </p><p>Their connections with Chris Argent made them find the hunter's location before the police did. Derek called the sheriff, but he lied about their proximity to the perpetrators. It was better the police thought he was still a good half hour away, when in fact he was ready to storm their hideout as soon as he hung up the call.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Derek heard the police not long before they opened the door to the warehouse floor Stiles was kept, his senses still hyper alert from the short fight. It gave him little time to get away, before they would see him. Time he didn't use. Not when it meant leaving Stiles by himself. Stiles, who had blood on his face from a blow he received earlier. Who smelled of hurt, anger, panic and an almost addictive flush of relief and hope at the sight of Derek.</p><p>He stopped checking Stiles over for injuries and slid his still clawed hands through the ropes that bound the other's hands and then rested them to the sides of the young man's neck. He checked one last time for the sounds of his pack, who had given chase to the two hunters who ran away - their aim had been to incapacitate, not kill. Unlike the hunters, who opened fire immediately. His Betas were out of the building, away from the police. Good.</p><p>"Der?" Stiles whispered hoarsely, his throat raw from shouting.</p><p>"You're okay," Derek answered, touching his forehead against Stiles. The boy was a bit confused, but there was no sense of fear or repulsion, despite having Derek's fangs in such close proximity. If anything, his scent turned warm, almost content. </p><p>"Yeah, I am," Stiles said, his hands coming up to hold onto Derek's forearms. He winced, the movement probably hurt his shoulders after being bound for a longer period of time. Yet he held on firmly, trying to look Derek in the eyes. "Are you?"</p><p>Derek nodded slightly, moving Stiles' head with his. He closed his red eyes, breathed deeply and let the change wash over him.</p><p>The door banged open. "Beacon Hills Police! Hands up!"</p><p>Derek slowly moved his hands up, staying kneeled in front of the chair Stiles was in. Feet in heavy boots moved out into the room, circling them.</p><p>"Stiles! Are you alright?" The sheriff's voice rang through the room. "For Pete's sake, put your hands down, son," he added, a fair bit of exasperation bleeding through his worried tone.</p><p>Derek opened his eyes to see Stiles lower his arms, one side of his mouth lifted in what should be a cheeky grin. The large bruise on his other cheek prevented a large smile. When Derek rolled his eyes, he winked at the werewolf. Or tried to, his eyelids sticky with dried blood.</p><p>"You're impossible," Derek groaned quietly.</p><p>"Derek?" The sheriff had moved closer and recognised the man who was with his son. He quickly told his men to stand down. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to wait for us."</p><p>"I… I heard fighting, sir." Derek answered, trying to look sheepish as he got to his feet and took a stand next to Stiles.</p><p>"And you thought you would storm in?" The sheriff gave him a sharp look, no doubt knowing exactly who had been fighting.</p><p>"Derek came in right when they ran off, dad!" Stiles piped up, trying to stand. </p><p>"Sit down," Derek and the sheriff said in unison. Stiles pulled a face, winced, and settled back in the chair. The siren of an ambulance came closer and closer, he would receive medical attention soon.</p><p>"Not all of them ran off, I see." The sheriff nodded to the body of one of the hunters, one that had been threatening Stiles at gunpoint when Derek arrived. The guy bled out on the floor from a large gash in his throat.</p><p>"They were fighting, dad. One of them had, like, one of those Rambo knives," Stiles said, as Derek told the sheriff - and any of the other overhearing policemen - he saw two men running away when he came in.</p><p>"Rambo knife, sure," the sheriff muttered, watching Derek’s human hands warily. "Sure, let's go with that. And let's hope the dead guy has a long rap sheet; makes this thing a whole lot easier."</p><p>"Olly! Where's Olly!?" Stiles suddenly got to his feet again, swaying precariously. Derek had a steadying arm around him before the sheriff could react, propping Stiles up against his side. "Is he okay? They shot him! Is he…"</p><p>"He's with Deaton," the sheriff answered carefully. "He will do the best he can."</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Stiles got out of the hospital with a mild concussion, a sling for his sprained shoulder, stitches for the gash on his head and painkillers for the general state of aching his body was in. <br/>Scott was waiting for him in the hall. "Your dad is still at the station and so is Derek," he explained. "As a witness," he added quickly when he saw the alarmed look on Stiles’ face.</p><p>Stiles' head was aching too much to think about why Scott was informing him about Derek’s whereabouts in the same sentence as those of his father. Not that he wasn't grateful for the information, but why would Scott... Besides, he had other things to worry about. "Olly?"</p><p>Scott grimaced painfully. "Deaton had to perform major surgery. He couldn't save…"</p><p>"Olly’s dead?!" Stiles yelled, way too loud for the quiet hallways of the hospital this late in the evening. </p><p>Scott quickly stepped into his space, putting his hands on his shoulders. "No, no! He's okay. Or, well, he will be. Deaton had to amputate his leg, the bullet did too much damage."</p><p>Stiles sagged against his best friend, letting himself be kept up by werewolf strength not for the first time that day. "He tried to defend me, he really tried," he mumbled against Scott's shoulder, tears blurring his vision.</p><p>"He's a good dog," Scott replied with an assuring pat to his back. "And he will fully recover. Dogs can walk around on three legs, no problem." </p><p>His friend took Stiles home and helped him to bed. "Try to get some sleep, I'll be downstairs until your dad comes home."</p><p> </p><p>*** </p><p> </p><p>Stiles woke up in the middle of the night. Or the very, very early morning.</p><p>"I didn't mean to wake you," a gruff voice said from the foot of his bed. "Go back to sleep."</p><p>Stiles blinked at the darkness, awareness trickling in. "Are you back to your creeperwolf ways?"</p><p>Derek huffed, but to Stiles it sounded more fond than annoyed. "I wanted to check up on you."</p><p>"You could have done that in the morning." Derek didn't answer, but he did fold his hand over Stiles ankle when he prodded him with his foot. "You okay, big guy?"</p><p>The hum of confirmation came a bit late. The werewolf probably nodded first, before he thought of how Stiles didn't have his night vision.</p><p>"No charges?"</p><p>"No. And your father and officer Parish were able to keep the supernatural out of it. One of the hunters was in violation of his parole and the other was carrying without a permit. That helped."<br/>Derek was silent for a bit, his hand rhythmically tightening and loosening on Stiles' ankle. <br/>"One of them did carry a large hunting knife. So your Rambo knife story checked out too."</p><p>"Well, duh," Stiles said, lightly kicking Derek’s hip from underneath the blanket. "I didn't make shit up. He was waving that thing around before you came."</p><p>The hand on his ankle tightened to the border of being painful - but not over it. Never over it. Stiles knew it wasn't because he was kicking Derek. The Alpha had been worried about him, had maybe even feared for his life. And now he was here, after what no doubt had been a very long night at the police station, checking up on Stiles.</p><p>"Olly is doing okay," Derek said suddenly. </p><p>Stiles was able to see a little more now his eyes were adjusted a bit. Derek’s shoulders were hunched with tiredness and he was still wearing the same T-shirt he had been wearing earlier that day. His gaze was pointed to the bed, where he was still holding on to Stiles' leg. The hand was on his calf now, just below his knee.<br/>"You went by the clinic?"</p><p>Derek nodded. "He smelled… well, not good, with all the antiseptic and blood. But there was no sign of infection and he was sleeping soundly."</p><p>Stiles reached down to grab Derek’s hand. The Alpha let him thread their fingers together. "Thank you. For… for everything."</p><p>"You don't have to thank me."</p><p>"Yes I do." Stiles tugged on his hand a little. "You came after me, you saved me. Again. And you must be dead tired but you still went and checked up on Olly for me. You didn’t have to do that, I know you're not a big fan of him."</p><p>"I like Olly just fine," Derek answered. He let Stiles pull him further up the bed, until he was stretched out next to him on top of the blankets.</p><p>"Could've fooled me," Stiles chuckled softly, ignoring the way his heartbeat picked up with how easily Derek let him pull him closer. The Alpha pushed off his shoes before he laid down, which made Stiles’ chest constrict in a way no rope bounds could. Still, he tried to sound casual and light-hearted. "You even chased Olly out of my bed, don't think I wasn’t on to you!"</p><p>When his father came home he came into Stiles' room, much like Derek did just now. He told Stiles Olly's police days were over, the dog would retire. Sandy, who manned the front desk, had already offered to adopt him. She had experience with fostering dogs and her husband worked from their home. Stiles was okay with that, Olly deserved a home with people who had lots of time for him. And he would still be able to visit Olly when he was home from university.</p><p>Derek rolled to his side, facing Stiles, taking one of the pillows for himself. Stiles still couldn’t see him all that well in the dark, but he thought his eyes were closed, his face relaxed. "A police dog doesn't belong in your bed."</p><p>"And a certain Alpha werewolf does?" Stiles blamed it on his concussion that he dared to say it out loud.</p><p>Derek placed his hand over Stiles', where it was laying on top of the young man’s stomach. "Go to sleep, Stiles."</p><p>Stiles did. Although he wanted it noted he didn't do it because Derek ordered him to. He did fall asleep with a large smile on his face, as large as his bruised cheek allowed him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, people! Have yourselves a very merry Christmas and I hope you get to spend the holidays with the people you like most, in person or through videocalls. Stay safe, stay sane.</p><p>Oh, and in case you didn’t know already: us fanfic authors thrive on kudos and comments. It's true. We really do. 😉</p>
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